Rebellin

I’m exhausted. After working on our marketing plan until close to 7:00 pm last night, (which required a lot of brain power), one of the executives from the Cal Neva came to meet with us, and we prompted her to tell us if the hotel really was haunted.

Her stories scared the you know what out of all of us. Three of us (myself included) slept with the lights and TV on last night. So in essence, I didn’t sleep well. Hence why I’m exhausted.

Let me just say that she convinced me that there is definitely something paranormal going on at that hotel. Yikes. Am looking forward to sleeping in my own un-haunted house tonight.

While I was watching the morning news, they announced a contest for the funniest ‘Mom’ story. Although I’ve never entered a contest like that before, I knew I had the PERFECT story for it. So this is what I submitted, and if I win, Mom and I get treated to a spa day. *fingers crossed*

My mother’s name is Marsha. One day when I was a teenager, she was rambling on about something that someone had done to really irritate her. She was really into this story, and the whole time she was talking, all I could think in my head was Jan Brady’s quote from the Brady Bunch of “Marsha, Marsha, Marsha”.

So when my mother paused in her story telling, I did my best Jan Brady impression, putting my hands on my hips and taunting, “Marsha, Marsha, Marsha”.

This didn’t go over well at all. Within a split second, I realized that there was a significant generation gap, as my Mom had no idea that I was actually quoting a 70s sit-com. Her face contorted and got red as she yelled, “Don’t talk to your mother like that! And don’t call me Marsha. Only three people in this world can call me Mom, and that is what you should call me.”

I stammered to explain that it was merely a joke, and that I had just said it to be funny. I gave a quick debrief of the “Marsha, Marsha, Marsha” Brady Bunch episode, but she just sat there with a very confused look on her face. I managed to convey that I hadn’t meant to belittle her, but I’ve now learned not to joke with my mother about anything related to Marsha Brady.

Disclaimer: I had to be a bit creative with this story, as I don’t remember all the details…

I’ll be attending a two day meeting the rest of this week at the Cal-Neva Resort. Although it’ll be a lot of work, I’m excited to have the views of the Lake, which will be much better than the view I have in my office (4 white walls).

This hotel used to be owned by Frank Sinatra and was frequented by Marilyn Monroe and the Rat Pack. Rumor has it that the hotel is haunted. I’ll let you know if I run into any famous ghosts up there.

Ooooooooohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh………. (that’s my attempt at typing a ghost sound)

I had an absolutely wonderful weekend. It started out on Friday night when JB and I headed out to see our favorite 80s cover band. They play at this tiny bar in Carson City, and I enjoy people watching as much as I do the music.

On Saturday, we decided to close out the ski season at Squaw Valley. It was a glorious Spring day, and though the snow was a bit slushy and my new boots still hurt like a mother, it was a great time. We then retired to the pool and hot tub at High Camp. The pool and hot tub are actually at the top of the mountain, at 8,200 feet. It says a bit about the weather conditions that day when we were able to change into our swimsuits and bask in the sun right after skiing. But let me tell you, sitting in the sun after a day of skiing, with a cool beer in my hand and a handsome man at my side is truly a slice of heaven on earth.

After splashing around in the pool a bit, we braved the 25 person hot tub that was jam packed with people. I found a spot to sit that happened to be next to two European men in Speedos.

Aside: There is a time and a place for everything, but Speedos really don’t belong at the hot tub of a ski resort.

Anyway, the European Speedo Men got hot, and decided they should go roll in the snow. So they got out of the hot tub, and launched themselves face first into the snow bank by the hot tub. They both wiggled a bit, and then flipped over, wiggling some more.

The reaction of the American men in the hot tub was priceless. Here were a few of the comments:
“Now that’s just wrong.”
“Eeeeeeeeeeewwwwwww.”
“Awe, man……”
“Did you see that wiggle?”

The men then got back up to enter the hot tub. One got in first, while the other grabbed a snow ball to throw at his Speedo wearing buddy. The snowball ended up hitting me in the face, so I got a close up of Speedo Man #2 as he came up to apologize to me. And meanwhile, I was thinking, Really, it’s OK….. You’re WAY too close to me…

After becoming prunes, we rode the cable car back down the mountain, and ate dinner at an Indian food restaurant in Reno that left A LOT to be desired. We then took a power nap, and headed out to Rum Bullions, a piano bar in Downtown Reno. We ordered up a huge Rum punch that came in a big ceramic bowl with two straws and was lit on fire before it was served to us. The bowl had a raised area in the center for the pure shot of rum that the bartender lit on fire. In one of my more brilliant moments, I dipped my straw in that center area and sucked the entire shot down, just to discover that it tasted strongly of matches. Blek!!! We had a blast dancing to the music, singing along, and watching two bachelorette parties make fools of themselves.

On Sunday, we took the three dogs on a 2 hour hike at the Tahoe Rim Trail. The Rim Trail goes all the way around Lake Tahoe, and we hiked to one of the most amazing views I’ve ever had of the Lake. The dogs had a blast playing fetch with pine cones, splashing in the puddles of snow melt, and eating the snow that remains in the shade.

We topped it all off with a steak dinner, wine and candlelight, all set to Frank Sinatra. Then, we went to the computer and booked two upcoming vacations… One to Lake Mead and one to San Diego. Very nice!

It was so perfect it seems like a dream. And speaking of dreams, the European Speedo Men visited me in my dreams last night. *shudder*

My dream life has been extremely exciting lately. I’ve been having very vivid dreams every night. Last night’s escapade had me learning how to scuba dive. I was diving in Lake Tahoe, when I was attacked by a Mackeral. In real life, these fish don’t exist in Lake Tahoe, nor do they attack people. But in my dream, this fish grabbed on to my arm and tore through my wet suit with its teeth.

I really have to wonder if my unconscious mind is trying to tell me something. For two nights in a row, I’ve been in very trying circumstances in my dreams. In fact, two weeks ago, I dreamed that I was attacked by a shark. There has to be some significance there….

Last night, I had a dream that I was once again a lifeguard at the country club that I used to work for in Albuquerque. This is how it went:

Upon arriving to work at the pool, I immediately told the rookie guards that I had seven years guarding experience under my belt, and hence, they had to go up on the lifeguard stand first, while I took the first available break. (Yeah, I was being a bit egotiscial upon my return to the pool!)

I then started checking out the lifeguard shack, the place where lifeguards usually hang out when they’re on break. The shack had completely changed, and was now a rickety three story wooden structure. I climbed up to the top of the shack, where a bunch of other lifeguards were hanging out.

The wind started to blow, and the rickety structure started to lean and sway, and we decided that it wasn’t safe for us to remain there. The rest of the lifeguards all stood up, held hands, and jumped from the three story structure into the pool. I, on the other hand, decided it would be much wiser to climb down from the structure. I got splinters in my hands as I climbed my way back down to the ground, and barely made it out of the structure before it collapsed.

I woke up this morning wondering what the significance was that everyone else jumped, but I didn’t. Anyone want to analyze that for me?
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Jane was supposed to have her labor induced at 7 am this morning. I’m so nervous for her! I’ll keep you posted on my new nephew… I’m headed over to Folsom tomorrow to hang out with Jack and then meet my baby nephew. Yippee!

Update: Contractions are 2 minutes apart… They expect delivery sometime this evening. Poor girl…. That’s a long day!

Last night after work, I went on a great hike at Galena Creek Regional Park. The park is at the base of Mt. Rose. I was joined by a girlfriend and Tucker the pooch.

Although the weather had turned windy and a bit chilly, it was so nice to be out in the wilderness on a weeknight. Tucker played in a creek and ran to the right and the left of the trail, making sure to check out every scent he could. We were surrounded by pine trees, and even saw a bit of remaining snow in places.

On my way home, I stopped by my brother’s house to pick up the kayak trailer that he had put together for me. Now, I can start kayaking after work at Sparks Marina, which is a really short drive from my house.

If only the weather will get warm again… We’re going to be in the 50s for the next 5 days or so, with a chance of snow in the mountains. On the bright side, perhaps there will be some fresh snow as JB and I close out the ski season at Alpine Meadows.

My holiday weekend started with a bang. Literally. At about 7 am on Saturday morning, I awoke to an earthquake. The house shook, the windows banged, and the cat and the dog both sat up in full alert.

My adrenaline was really pumping, and I turned on the TV to see if there was any talk about the earthquake. Not a word. And thanks to the adrenaline rush, my plans for sleeping in were ruined. I asked a few other people if they felt the quake, and no one did.

But an article in the Sunday paper reported that there really was an earthquake — 2.4 on the rictor scale and the epicenter was at the airport. That explains a lot, because I literally live across the street from the airport.

Anyway, I spent most of the weekend hanging out with JB and his parents. We went to the Nevada Museum of Art on Saturday, followed by a stroll along the Truckee River in downtown Reno. On Sunday, we had ideal weather for our cruise on Lake Tahoe. I have some great pics that I’ll post later. After the cruise, we took a walk along the beach, which got me all excited for the summer, when I can hang out on the beach at Lake Tahoe and train for an upcoming open water swim in Lake Tahoe’s crystal blue waters.

Monday, I had the day off, and managed to get a lot of chores done. I also snuck in a nap, which felt like true luxury. And now, the work week seems a bit less daunting knowing that it is only a 4 day week.

Things that have made me smile this week:

• Getting to drive a bright yellow Hummer H2 today. It was almost as cool as the H1 I got to drive several years ago…
• Daylight savings time. Thank GOD ALMIGHTY we have jumped ahead an hour. Now I can actually enjoy the sunshine after work during the week. And believe me, when you’re confined to an office without windows for 9 hours a day, that means a lot!
• Finding seedless watermelon in the stores. That signals the true start of summer for me, a watermelon addict. Mom says she ate a ton of watermelon when she was pregnant with me, so that’s why I can’t get enough of the luscious pink fruit. Yum!
• Buying a $170 item for $89 because it had been in the wrong bin at the store. I swear I didn’t even pressure the people to do this. They just gave me a $80 discount as the clerk muttered, ‘Oh, well. I don’t care.’
• Getting to see and feel Jane’s belly in all its wonder. I saw my baby nephew moving in her belly and I swear the little guy even kicked at me as my hand was on her belly. Even more priceless was watching my brother, Chuck’s eyes get really big as he said it was like watching an alien.
• Putting away the winter clothes and dragging out the summer ones. It’s like having a brand new wardrobe. Wearing open toed sandals again is really the best.
• Hearing Tucker fart REALLY loud as he stretched. He then looked back as if to say, ‘Where did that noise come from?’ (I cleared out of the room after that so as to not be subjected to dog fart stench.)
• Thinking about the three day weekend coming up. Yeah!!!
  

How could you possibly be happier than a three year-old at his own birthday party?

On Saturday, JB and I ventured over the hill (aka the Sierras) to attend my nephew, Jack’s third birthday party. Our original plan was to ski from 9 am to 1:00 and then continue driving West to Folsom. Well, that was jinxed by us getting a very slow start to the day, so we didn’t make it to the ski area until about noon.

Next thing we knew, it was 2:15 before we were headed from the ski resort to Jack’s party. I put the pedal to the medal in an effort to make record time to Jack’s party, but I kept getting trapped in no-pass zones behind tourists driving REALLY slow.

We made it to his party about an hour and a half late. I missed singing the birthday song, the blowing out of the candles, the pinata, and a lot of the present opening. I was pretty bummed. But Jack was having an absolute blast.

His parents got him a bounce house for the party, and wow, was it a hit. When I arrived, Jack and two other toddlers were running around chasing each other around and through the bounce house and screaming in very high pitches. Before I knew it, Jack was pulling me towards the bounce house, saying ‘Net, bounce!’

After making sure that adults were indeed allowed in the bounce house, I joined Jack and a few of his friends in the bounce house. Yes, I was the only adult in the bounce house for the duration of the party, but man, I really do love bounce houses. Jack and I had a blast in there. Bouncing with a three year old is extremely exhausting, too, so every time I tried to leave the bounce house, I’d hear Jack saying ‘Bounce, Net, bounce!’

It was a perfect birthday party for the little guy. All the presents, cake, and candy a boy his size could handle, a bunch of friends his age, and tons and tons of bouncing. When we left that night around 8:30 pm, the kid looked like he was ready to pass out from exhaustion.

Pictures from the party will be posted tomorrow in honor of Jack’s actual birthday (the party was a few days early).

The rest of the weekend was really good. After Jack’s party, JB and I stayed to hang out with my brother and sister-in-law, and it was good to get in some good quality family time.

On Sunday, we decided to go skiing yet again. You see, I bought new ski boots last week, so I really wanted to try them out. My old boots were from my college days, and the liner in one of the boots keeps collapsing, so I had to constantly keep a wine bottle in the boot when I wasn’t wearing it, or risk not being able to get my foot in when I made it to the slopes. And I was having bad foot cramps in those boots, and my feet were almost always numb. So in other words, I really needed some new boots.

I went all out on the new boots. I got some really super duper high performance custom boots (cha ching). I expected the new boots to be ultra comfortable and to be super responsive. I think in my mind, I thought my experience skiing in the new boots would be similar to the angels opening up the heavens and guiding me down the slopes.

But skiing in my new boots was literally hell. They hurt like crazy. The first day, they were set with a tilt so that I was constantly in a squat position. I couldn’t even straighten my legs. This meant that the first run, which happened to be a beginner run, had my legs exhausted and shaking. Luckily, JB managed to adjust them that night, so Sunday was a bit better. But my toes were banging the front of the boot, my feet were going numb, and for some reason, the new boots made my calf muscles have to work extra hard, so my calves were burning the entire time.

Needless to say, I am headed back to the shop where I bought my boots, and I have a few choice words for the man that fit me in them.

My entire life, I considered myself tall. All the way through middle school, I was one of the tallest kids out of all the girls and boys. I reached my full height of 5’8″ at the tender age of twelve.

My family is tall. My best friend is tall. My dog is tall. (OK, I just threw that in to see if you were paying attention.) I always have people refer to me as being tall, and when I wear heels, it is almost a given that someone will gape at me and say ‘how tall ARE you?’

But then I met JB. And in his view of the world, I’m simply average height. Every time I mention being tall, he kind of snickers because he thinks that it’s rather humorous that I think I’m tall.

You see, JB is 6’6″. For some reason, we recently got into a discussion of height, and he said that he could just possibly be over 6’6″. So I broke out the tape measure, stood him against the wall, and low and behold, the man is 6’6″ and 1/2.

I was impressed, and decided I could very well be over 5’8″, so we turned the tape measure on me.

JB laughed when he saw the measurement. “You’re not even 5’8″ — you’re 5’7″ and 7/8!”

“What?!” I exclaimed… I had always thought I was an even 5’8″. So for the rest of the night, the big joke between us was that I wasn’t even as “tall” as I had thought I was. I even considered the possibility that I’ve begun the shrinking process early due to my hobby of running.

And I just have to say that I really enjoy this banter. My entire life, I felt like a really BIG person. I went on dates with a few guys shorter than me, and a few guys claiming to be 6 foot tall when I could clearly see over the top of their heads. And on those dates, I used to say that I felt like the Jolly Green Giant. Call me discriminatory, but I always dreamed of ending up with someone tall.

There are so many things that I love about JB, but my focus today is height, and I have to say that being considered ‘average height’ in his world is a treat to me. I love hugging him where I can bury my face in his chest, and the fact that I have to stand on my tip toes to kiss him, and I can wear really tall heels without towering over him. I’ve never experienced that before.

A wise woman once told me that ‘tall people just look good together’, and I like to think JB and I do, even if I may be average height in his eyes.

There used to be a time, not so long ago, that my Thursday nights were my sacred TV watching nights. It started back in college, when we’d cram a bunch of people into a dorm room to watch Friends, Sienfeld, and ER.

Then, they killed Seinfeld. But I still watched Friends and ER.

What NBC is doing with Friends this season is really annoying me. The actors on Friends earn $1 Million per episode, so would it really be too much to ask that they actually shoot a few new episodes during their 10th and final season?

This whole re-playing of the ‘best Friends episodes ever’, as voted by fans on the website, for the past 5 weeks is just plain stupid. We’ve all seen those episodes. In fact, I’m starting to forget what the heck is happening in the current plot. But even when they did air a few new Friends episodes this season, they were remarkably uninspired.

I understand that it is time to hang up the hat, but, come on, people — humor me with a few more new episodes before the grand finale on May 6. But if the final episode of Seinfeld is any indicator, the final episode of Friends will most likely be as much as a let down as their final season has been.

OK, I’m done ranting. But really, what the heck is a girl supposed to watch without Friends and Sex and The City?!